The Eagle and the Lion
by Rubies and Diamonds
Summary: Because as much as they hoped, their lives would never be a fairytale.
1. The Meeting

**A/N: **Recently been overcome with Habian feels, so enjoy a very short seven-shot I wrote at around 3am. (Please don't judge me too harshly)

**Disclaimer: **JKR is the reason why instead of going out and partying with all the girls my age I'm sitting at home crying and writing.

* * *

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. Hestia was full on _terrified_. She didn't know what she was getting herself into, didn't know _anyone_, barely knew _anything _(or so she thought), and wanted to go home.

Her mother had already left, not before giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, a tight hug, and a promise that she was to write whenever possible. The platform was full to the brim with students of all ages, along with their respectable families, most towering over tiny barely-five-foot, eleven-year-old Hestia Jones.

Somehow she'd managed to meander her way through the massive crowd – not without some effort, that was – and had scored a window seat in a nondescript carriage aboard the Hogwarts Express. Her nerves hadn't calmed much during the journey there.

A few new faces made their way into the compartment, boys, and judging by their height they were most likely first or second years. She had to admit she was slightly relieved – she probably would have thrown up if an older student had come in.

She kept her eyes trained to the platform outside, watching parents wave their hands frantically and smaller children – even smaller than _her_ – run around and play fight each other. It was almost like the kind of picture you see from a postcard, only instead of crashing blue waves, you saw waving, smiling people.

She barely noticed that an occupant of the compartment had spoken up, until said speaker tapped her on the shoulder nervously, like she was a bomb of sorts.

Startled, she turned to face one of the boys that had entered, the one that had sat down in the seat next to her. She was not, however, prepared to have her heart race and skip and jump at the sight of him.

He had a sweet face, a grin firmly pasted on his slightly oversized mouth, wonky teeth and all. Strawberry blonde curls framed his pale face, and freckles danced along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes sparked, with something along the lines of excitement and nervousness.

"Hi, I'm Fabian," he said in a voice that had yet to break, "Nice to meet you." At that, he stuck out a hand which Hestia shook, and titled his head to another curly haired ginger, one who looked pretty much like the boy's clone. "I have a twin and his name's Gideon. I'm the better one, obviously."

All in all, he was not the most attractive a man could be. Really, she supposed, all the boys in his little group that he had entered with were probably twice the looker he was (excluding his twin), maybe even more.

"Hi. I'm Hestia. Hestia Jones. I don't have any siblings, and most of the time I'm extremely thankful for that."

"Well, Hestia, Hestia Jones, looking forward to Hogwarts?"

But despite his debatable good looks, Hestia, consciously or otherwise, had decided she had found the most beautiful man alive.


	2. The Questioning

Fabian didn't really know why he was parading the streets of Hogsmeade with a girl that was not Hestia on his arm.

He also didn't really know why he was thinking about such things as swapping his date for his best friend.

He also didn't really know why he was crazy-jealous of the smug berk Hestia was accompanying.

It had all started this morning, when he met Bonnie at the courtyard's entrance. She had straightened her hair – her long, _blonde _hair. (It was then that he decided he preferred black hair – short, curly, black hair.)

She had fluttered her eyelashes – mascara coated things, hiding dusty brown eyes. (It was then he decided he preferred thick, dark mascara-_less_ eyelashes, that hid electric blue irises.)

She had waved off the fact he was a few minutes late and laughed at his jokes. (He wished she would snap and ignore and get mad at him for being late, and moan about how damn awful the jokes were.)

In short, she was probably Hestia's polar opposite. (He was ashamed to admit he preferred Hestia's end.)

But he couldn't exactly say anything, for he was much too much of a gentleman (or just not a complete dick) as to admit he would rather be here with Hestia Jones than her.

Also, he couldn't exactly say anything to Hestia, for he didn't know why he wanted her here instead of Bonnie, and wanted to hex Matthew Donohue into the next life.

All in all, Fabian didn't really know what was going on, or why he was feeling so strange in regard to his best friend of four and a bit years.

So, nothing new.


	3. The Wanting

"Goooooood morning," Fabian Prewett sang as he dropped himself onto the seat next to a grumpy and scowling Hestia Jones.

"Bugger off," she snapped as she pushed her plate away and dropped her head onto the dented wooden surface of the Ravenclaw table. "You're not even supposed to be here."

"The Gryffindor table will have to suffer my absence, for I want to sit next to my best friend, the one who I haven't seen for a while, which is a crime amongst crimes, for she is one of the best people to walk upon this earth and being without her for extended periods of time makes me want to curl up and sob uncontrollably," he said dramatically, throwing his arms about before settling them down to patting her dark curls and helping himself to a plateful of eggs.

Only, best friend was not a term Hestia wanted to use for the boy who was currently stroking her hair. Things ranging along the lines of boyfriend, lover, fiancé, husband, soul mate – those were the kind of terms she wished she could relate to him.

It was very uncharacteristic of Hestia, to want to be with a person as much as she did Fabian. It was of a general rule that she didn't really like to socialize with people, and being forced to spend time with certain ones made her want to wring her own neck. But, after knowing him for four and a half years, she had found extended periods of time with Fabian Prewett was nothing short of wondrous, something she had come to love and anticipate – which was entirely ridiculous, of course.

But the stupid blighter had a girlfriend – a stupid, giggly, blonde girl with a stupid name and a stupid face that was stupidly pretty and smiley and funny and everything Hestia was not. (That may or may not have been her reason for avoiding him as of late.) It was ridiculous, she knew it was – it was only a little crush, for goodness sake! – but she couldn't help it. (She never had been good at dealing with emotions.)

"I'm touched," she muttered to the oak.

"Seriously, though. I miss you. Stop studying. Come and be an idiot with me."

"As lovely as that sounds," she said, lifting her head up from the table – really, it did sound positively _perfect_ – "We have OWLs in _seven_ week's time. _Seven_. Forgive me for wanting to get a good grade."

"No, I don't think I will. Just because you're a Ravenclaw does _not_ mean you have to hole yourself up in the library going over work you can do in your sleep."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared," she muttered, frowning at her goblet of pumpkin juice before taking a generous swig.

"_Over _prepared," he said back in the same low tone.

While it annoyed the hell out of her – his constant need to have the last word in _everything_, and the fact he almost _always_ disagreed with whatever Hestia had to say – it was one of her favourite things about him. While most might be nervous on angering the perpetually-bad mooded girl, Fabian had no problem with it. He never had, and Hestia didn't think he ever would. She always knew she was in need of an idiot that could match her raging temper.

"Why don't you come and study with me, then, if you miss me so much?" she asked.

"Please, Hest. The Prewett-ster does _not_ need to study. He can shirk off work all he wants and _still_ do a better job than you."

"Why am I still friends with you?" she asked, incredulity clear on her angular face.

"Because I'm amazing, and Gideon is a twat."

"I prefer Gideon, you know," she lied.

"No, you don't," he scoffed, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight.

Knowing he loved having the last word and slightly more than content with having his arm around her, Hestia simply rolled her eyes.


	4. The Realising

He'd finally figured it out – that feeling he got whenever he was in Hestia's proximity, that unbridled jealousy he felt when she went off with some undeserving bloke, that stupid affinity he had for blue eyes and black hair and tanned skin and high cheekbones and beauty spots and wide hips and small feet and bony elbows.

He loved her.

He loved her, he loved her, he loved her, and it was all so confusing but clear and slightly scary but brilliant because _he loved her_.

…And then came the realization that there was little chance in hell she felt the same, and that his love was wasted (if only he knew).

But he had to tell her, didn't he? Isn't that what happens in all the good stories, the trashy romance garbage that Molly reads? The heroic, handsome leading male confesses his undying love for the stunning and saintly leading lady, and they ride off on the hero's valiant steed into the sunset?

But he wasn't the handsome leading male. He had curly ginger hair and freckles and boring brown eyes and wasn't good enough for her because he wasn't as smart or funny or as self assured as she was, and he wasn't as brave as his house made him out to be, and he didn't have a horse that would ride them off into the sunset and he didn't know a thing about love other than it was when you cared so strongly about another human being that you would bend (or break entirely) every rule for them, and that description seemed apt for his situation.

And she wasn't the stunning and saintly leading lady. She was cold and crass, rarely let anyone in and smoked far too much and studied for too long and didn't brush her hair enough because it made the black fibers grow static and made them stand on end. She was the girl that put on a false bravado of non-chalance and acted like nothing affected her and lived up to the stereotype of an unfeeling Ravenclaw, and she didn't know a thing about love either.

He had to face it – their life, however magical, was not a fairytale.


	5. The Confessing

It was a fight that kicked the confessions out of them both.

A simple disagreement, one that spiraled skyward within a matter of minutes, both talking about one thing but meaning something else entirely.

They were sitting in the courtyard on an ordinary stone bench on an ordinary Wednesday evening, ordinarily enjoying the other's company as they babbled senselessly about things neither of them had much care for, both mainly trying to hide the fact that they wanted nothing more than to tell the other the thought that was branded to the forefront of their minds, the scar they thought ugly and taboo but was really a beautiful, growing and blossoming mark permeated onto their fragile skin.

On the topic of ice cream, of the favourite and least favourite flavor variety, Fabian made the unintentional mistake of labeling mint choc-chip as his least favorite flavor. Hestia, ever the one to defend her favorite ice-cream's honor, called him out on it, and from there the ignited spark flourished.

"Maybe if you just opened your eyes and _looked_, you'd see the better flavor right under your nose!" she screamed at him, her usually calm and uncaring demeanor gone with the wind.

"Maybe if you stopped and regarded someone other than_ yourself_ for a moment, you'd see that there are so many other options, ones that would taste far better than bloody mint choc-chip!" he shouted back, his usually smiling face contorted into one of anger and a longing to just grab the fuming girl in front of her and kiss her.

"Well maybe if you gave it a chance instead of running off to your stupid, safe cookie dough flavor, you'd see that it tastes _far_ better than anything else!"

"Maybe I like to be safe! Maybe I like to stick to one flavor that I know will never turn it's back on me and won't make me feel inadequate with its extra toppings and ingredients!"

"Well then your not living! If you just _tried_, stepped out of your comfort zone, you'd find that safety isn't any fun! And you might just find yourself loving a new flavor!"

"What if I don't? What if it's all just a joke to the mint choc-chip and it doesn't realize that I'm serious and scared and longing to leave the comfort zone but am terrified of the consequences?"

"It's not like that! Mint choc-chip _wants _to be tried, wants to be loved! It's not going to run off when your backs turned, it's not like that –"

While to anyone listening in on the conversation would have realized that it had stopped being about ice cream within the first ten seconds, it seemed to have just dawned on the both of them that maybe they were referring to themselves rather than their preferred flavor.

Just to fill the tense silence that had built itself between them, Fabian rushed out the overdue confession all in one heavy breath, "HestiaIloveyou." (While this was not exactly how he pictured his declaration, it was better than keeping it bottled up, he thought.)

And despite the man usually initiating the kiss, it was Hestia that barreled forward into his arms, threw her own around his neck, and crashed her lips to his.

It was fiery passion and pent up feelings and longing and freedom and _finally_, all rolled up into one movement of lips against lips, tongues sliding over tongues, fingers twisted in hair and hands clutching hips.

"I guess I love you too," she whispered through labored breaths, lips still on his, fingers still locked in ginger tresses.

"I guess that's cool," he replied, trying to get her closer to him when it wasn't even physically possible anymore, a dazed smile claiming his lips.

"I guess it is," she answered, before kissing him once more.


	6. The Proposing

"Fab, are you sure you want to do this?" Gideon Prewett asked his nervous looking twin, his voice deathly serious.

"What are you talking about?" his brother asked, a new panic budding inside of him.

"Are you sure you want to be stuck with _Hestia_ for the rest of your life?" was Gideon's reply, his serious tone a complete farce, it's spot rightfully reclaimed by the usual teasing banter he always exuded.

"Bugger off, mate."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You know I love her."

"Yeah, it's all well and good you loving her, me loving her, Molly loving her, Mum and Dad loving her – does she love us all back? Enough to agree?"

"Stop worrying, you pathetic sod."

"Wow, Gid, never thought of that – stop worrying. Really, mate, ever considered philosophy as a career? _Stop worrying_. I don't know where you come up with this genius, I really don't."

"All in a days work."

Just then, the sound of keys in locks echoed through the thin walls that was Fabian and Hestia's rented flat, the one they were to move out of as soon as Fabian finished his Auror training and Hestia finally got that promotion she had been after for the past year at the _Prophet_.

"Shit! Hide!" the elder by fifteen seconds twin hissed to the younger, flailing his arms and gesturing wildly to the front door.

For lack of a better option, Gideon dove behind the cream leather couch of their living room, just before Hestia walked in and gave Fabian a wide smile.

"Hey," she said, dropping down into the matching cream armchair that was usually fought over by the two.

When Fabian didn't say anything, she spoke again. "Fab? You okay?"

The words were stuck in his throat. Here he was, about to propose to the woman he loved, and he couldn't utter a single syllable.

"Uh –" he coughed, running a hand through his curly tresses.

"Yes?" she asked, dragging out the 's'.

Like a knee-jerk reaction, he dropped to one knee and flipped open the velvet box that had been locked in his fist for the past quarter of an hour.

"H-Hestiawillyoumarryme?" It was telling her that he loved her all over again.

Now it was her turn to fall speechless.

"Hesti-" he was then cut off by her jumping off of the armchair and onto him, attacking him with hugs and kisses and squeals of 'yesyesyesyes!"

Neither of them noticed Gideon slipping out from his hiding spot and leaving, a stupid grin plastered over his freckled face.


	7. The Loosing

This couldn't true. It couldn't.

He had said he'd stay safe – he _promised_ – and she'd made Gideon swear to keep him out of trouble (despite Gideon being the more mischievous of the two).

He wasn't dead. Neither was Gideon. It was all just a cruel, sick joke.

That Killing Curse hadn't hit him. Fabian hadn't jumped in front of his twin when the blinding green light shot straight for him, and Gideon hadn't dropped down next to him and sobbed, leaving him open and vulnerable for all sorts of attacks.

She wasn't alone.

She didn't have a dead fiancé.

He would come stumbling through the front door any moment, and she'd yell at him for making her worry, and he'd hug her and comb his fingers through her untamable curly black hair and whisper mindless comforts, and he'd make her a hot chocolate because he knew she hated tea and coffee, and he'd open the mint choc-chip ice cream tub and grab her special spoon that had the handle in the shape of a pig, and he'd carry her over to the armchair they always fought over, and they'd drink and eat and watch rubbish telly and she'd fall asleep in his lap, and she'd wake up with a face full of ginger curls that smelt like olive and pine, and _he wasn't dead_.

She hadn't lost two of her closest friends, hadn't lost a pair of boys she loved so unconditionally, hadn't lost her stupid brother-in-law to be, hadn't lost her idiot of a husband-to-be.

There was still so much left to do – the wedding, the new house, the kids he so wanted and she wanted too but was so scared of being a bad mother but he made her braver so she wasn't as scared and they were supposed to grow old and meet their kid's kids, and she still had to officially introduce herself as Mrs. Fabian Prewett, and she still had to sign her name 'Hestia Prewett', and she still had to be a _real_ aunt to Bill and Charlie and Percy and Fred and George, and she still had to see Gideon make an honest woman out of some lucky bird, and _there was so much left unfinished_.

She hadn't just lost two barely-there men.

She'd lost a whole life.

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**A/N: **HA if you thought this was going to end well like really it's Harry Potter nothing ends well for people from the Marauders Era

And if you're feeling nice, leave me a review!

Ruby


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